


Dancing with Grace

by IWalkedWithZombine



Series: Down in the Bunker [1]
Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Bunker Ending, Dancing, Drabble, F/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 04:05:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14708753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWalkedWithZombine/pseuds/IWalkedWithZombine
Summary: Joseph is a surprisingly good dancer.





	Dancing with Grace

Dutch had a surprisingly diverse collection of records. For a gruff Vietnam veteran, she would expect his music taste to end in 1982. But to her surprise, The Deputy found music as vapid as Top 40 hits and as obscure as bands who only performed in a bar in Idaho in the summer of 1969. 

 

So the Deputy starts to play music. To drown out the silence, the sounds of the dying world outside, and the murmured sermons that Joseph gives. Even if she finds herself in other parts of the bunker, she cranks the music, letting it be heard maybe even to the outside world. Or what is left of it. Sometimes she uses it to work on the supplies or in the bunker. Sometimes she puts on a slow album and sips on the alcohol that she found stashed away. 

 

Eventually, one day, when she feels the tight anxiety of claustrophobia gripping her, she puts on  _ Earth, Wind and Fire _ , and dances. She isn’t good at it, her only experience is awkward school dances and drunk club performances, so her movements are spirited but uncoordinated. Slowly, her anxiety slips away. She closes her eyes, just focuses on the music, lets her body move in whatever way it feels. 

 

The Deputy isn’t really sure how long she dances, but eventually her calves burn and the album ends. She opens her eyes and standing in the doorway is Joseph. Watching. The man still refuses to wear a shirt, only changing out of his formal pants for softer ones, albeit a little too large for his frame. 

 

Normally, the Deputy tries to keep distance from the man since they have been down in the bunker. In emotion, in words, even in dress. But the Deputy is honestly caught off guard. She was wearing her sleeping clothes, a tank top, no bra, shorts. There is a fine layer of sweat of on her body and her hair is unruly. Her face is open, not the mask of indifference that she had practiced to perfection to wear around Joseph. It’s the most human she has looked around Joseph since she woke up handcuffed the first day in the bunker. 

 

They stare at each other and the Deputy has trouble tempering herself. She feels uncomfortable under his unbreaking gaze, so she breaks eye contact, moves to turn off the record player. Joseph still hasn’t moved. The Deputy swallows and moves around him, out the room, to her defacto bedroom, the one with a lock on the inside. He doesn’t stop her, but she can feel his gaze burn on her as she walks away.

* * *

 

She still plays music, but she doesn’t dance again. Sometimes she catches Joseph peak into the room with the record player, maybe hoping to catch the Deputy off guard again. Other than that rare moment, Joseph and the Deputy still rarely interact.

 

The first days they had been down there were bad. The Deputy did what she could to forget. But since then, the Deputy had decided it was better to ignore Joseph that try to interact with him. So she did. The Deputy claimed the room she first woke in the first time as her own, because of its sentimental value, and that the door locked. When it came to survival, the Deputy was neutral. She didn’t try to stave the man by hoarding food, but she took her meals separate. She didn't ask him to stop when his solo sermons turned into him yelling his lessons, she just turned to her bedroom or played the music louder. Their relationship was symbiotic at best.

 

Except one day. It's the beginning of the day, well, what she assumes is the beginning of the day. The Deputy was showering when she heard the record player come on. A Sinatra album comes. Curiosity takes over her. She finished her shower, and pads out quietly, tiptoeing to the record players room, peaking in. 

 

Joseph is dancing. Dancing better than her. Rather than uncoordinated movements, Joseph is waltzing, hands out to grip an non-existent partner. His movements are measured, sure. Each footing change is perfect, movements elegant. She watches him for the duration of the albums first song and when it ends, Joseph turns to her, staring at her like the first time. 

 

She freezes, unmoving from her spot and Joseph holds out his hand to her. The next song starts. The Deputy isn’t sure what to do. Slowly, like approaching a wild animal, he moves toward her. He stops before the doorway, not wanting to crowd her, but he reaches out to take her hand. For her part, the Deputy doesn’t flinch. She lets him take her hand, lead her into the room, arrange her for a dance.

 

Then they are moving together, Joseph leading, never correcting her, not even when she accidentally steps on his toes. He moves them and it isn’t just one dance. They dance together throughout the entire album. 

 

At first, the Deputy is slightly stiff, unsure of Joseph and unfamiliar with dancing with a partner. But eventually her muscles relax, she leans in Joseph and even when the album is done playing, their heads are together, eyes closed, and they sway together in the silence. 

 

She wants to think about several things. Like how does Joseph, a man whose spent most of his life homeless, know how to dance. Or how does Joseph hold her so close, so sure, when she is the reason he is in the bunker and his family dead. 

 

But she lets it slide away from her mind, fade away. Instead she focuses on his grip, the relaxing sway, the smell of him, the warmth. Joseph seems to want to do the same, because eventually they aren’t even dancing anymore, just standing, embraced. They say nothing to each other.


End file.
